Post Traumatic Kiss Syndrome
by dodger-chan
Summary: Tsuzuki's perspective this time. Not exactly fluffy.
1. Hisoka

Disclamer/warnings: *sigh* not mine. None of it. Just a little fluff piece about Hisoka obsessing over Tsuzuki. 

For Yuki: Thanks for the experience. 

The ceiling was, perhaps, the most fascinating thing Hisoka had seen since he'd died. Since before he'd died, even. It was flat, white, and blank. And far beyond interesting. Hisoka stared fixedly, hunting for a crack, a silhouette, a fault, to think about. Nothing. The ceiling was flawless. The light even reflected to eliminate any shadows that might have hoped to form in a corner. Hisoka tried to contemplate the empty perfection, but it was too large and imprecise a concept. He needed to think about something concrete. Was the ceiling made of concrete? Hisoka tried to determine the material behind the paint. Maybe if he touched it….

"Kurosaki-kun, if I may ask, what are you doing?" Hisoka fell back to his chair as soon as he realized he'd been levitating. Tatsumi-san stood in the doorway of the office, his look a cross between concerned and irritated, as though he wasn't yet sure which he was supposed to be. Hisoka blushed.

"Ah…sorry, Tatsumi-san. I think I was daydreaming." Hisoka wasn't entirely certain if he was lying or not. Tatsumi-san frowned, nearly all trace of concern disappearing beneath obsession with an efficient working environment. 

"One should be more careful of who one allows to influence one's behavior, Kurosaki-kun." Hisoka sighed. He knew precisely what the secretary was talking about. Rather, who. "Speaking of which, where is Tsuzuki-san?"

"He went to get us lunch." Tatsumi-san gave Hisoka a questioning look, but Hisoka chose to ignore it. Tsuzuki hadn't been much help with the paperwork, anyway, and the incessant whining about hunger pains had come close to driving Hisoka insane. He'd thought he'd be able to concentrate better with Tsuzuki elsewhere. Technically true, he couldn't recall the last thing that had received as much attention from him as the ceiling had in the past fifteen minutes. 

"Are you sure sending that person for food unsupervised was wise?" Hisoka snorted and returned to his paperwork. 

"When _Tsuzuki_ comes back, I'll tell him you were looking for him." He made sure to slightly emphasize Tsuzuki's name. Tatsumi-san didn't quite approve of the familiarity. Hisoka knew he should use a more formal address, but as long as Tsuzuki called him "Hisoka," he would call his partner simply "Tsuzuki." 

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun." Stiffly, the secretary departed, permitting Hisoka to return to his thoughts. 

Somehow, the ceiling wasn't quite as able to hold his attention. Tatsumi-san's fault, of course. He'd been the one to bring up Tsuzuki. Hisoka's mind was gone.

_Warm skin sticking to his own._

_Another's tears drying on his face._

The delicate pressure of lips- 

"Ne, Hisoka, you okay?"

Hisoka jerked violently back to reality. Tsuzuki had returned with the food. Chinese take-out sat steaming on their desks. Uncharacteristically ignoring the food, Tsuzuki was leaning over Hisoka, his concern as perceptible as the sake on his breath-

_-the bitter taste sweetened by the flavor of cinnamon and sugar. Tsuzuki had had cinnamon rolls for breakfast-_

"I'm fine." Tsuzuki didn't seem convinced, but he let it go. That was his best skill as a partner; letting things go. Not forcing Hisoka to talk about things he didn't want to. Pretending things never happened. 

_A silent promise between the two of them. Nothing had happened._

Hisoka didn't taste his food. He didn't read the paperwork he filled out. He didn't hear Tsuzuki's mindless chatter. The day passed and nothing happened. 

_Nothing had happened._

The ceiling again, his own this time. There was more to stare at in his house; the ceiling had shadows. His eyes traced their outlines. A minor demon rising from the depths of his closet, long fingers stretching across the ceiling. A dark corner, waiting to swallow whoever chose to sit in it. The shadows disappeared as Hisoka snapped the lights off, wrapping himself in the cold safety of the dark. Standing beside the light switch, he stared into the darkness, remembering what didn't happen. Because nothing had happened.

_Except that you kissed him, idiot._

Really, nothing had happened at all. Tsuzuki had been having a bad day, nothing all that unusual. Hisoka'd merely wanted to comfort him, also normal. Just a little extra effort. A hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder. A smile. Forcing Tsuzuki to look him in the eye as he assured his partner that even idiots have value. Leaning very close to emphasize his point. Letting their lips touch. 

It hadn't felt like anything. Aside from lips. Nothing particularly special about lips. They were just lips. Ordinary lips. Tsuzuki's lips. That was all that was special about them, that they were Tsuzuki's. There wasn't any magical power to them; they were just lips. 

Normal. It had all felt normal. And that was all it had been. Normal, ordinary, run-of-the-mill physical feelings. Senses of touch, taste, and smell stimulated mildly. It hadn't really meant anything. More than comfort, that is. He'd been comforting Tsuzuki, that was all. There was no reason for him to keep obsessing over it. No reason to keep him from thinking of anything else. No reason for the scene to play over and over on the inside of his eyelids like some bizarre form of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Post Traumatic Kiss Syndrome? Hisoka laughed. Ridiculous notion. 

_Warm hands. Soft lips. Pleasure, pain, a not quite uncomfortable pressure._

Hisoka woke from his nightmare with a yelp. Sweat dripped off his body. It hadn't been a nightmare. Tsuzuki had been there. The hands, the lips, the panting breath, had all belonged to Tsuzuki. Tsuzuki's presence had never been a subject of nightmares. His absence, on the other hand…. Hisoka gasped and felt the absence. Tsuzuki wasn't there, only in the dream. His whole house felt lonely. He felt lonely.

Stupid. It was just a dream. It didn't mean anything. He wasn't lonely. He was just…tired. Hisoka closed his eyes and willed himself back to sleep. Slowly his mind relaxed. The pillow beneath him warmed to the temperature of human skin. The sheet wrapped around him, arms across his chest. A soft breeze floated through his open window and danced over the back of his neck, the even breathing of the man in bed beside him. There was no one in bed beside him. Hisoka sat up again, fully awake and all alone. 

He still wasn't sure why he kept searching for Tsuzuki in the darkness of his bedroom. He certainly had no reason to expect Tsuzuki to be there. Tsuzuki had never been there before. No, that was wrong. Once, after Tsuzuki had destroyed the library his second or third time, once Tsuzuki had brought him to his house. One time in the years they'd worked together, Tsuzuki had been in his house. Not his home; that was wherever Tsuzuki was at any given moment. He couldn't remember quite when that had happened, but he remembered when he realized it. Seeing Tsuzuki in the black flames and feeling as though he were losing everything. Suddenly he felt like such a child. 

I want to go home! 

Hisoka found himself standing in front of Tsuzuki's door. His hand hesitated halfway into a knock. He hadn't meant to…it was too late, no, too early. Tsuzuki would be sleeping. His arm was starting to hurt, hovering just off the door. He should leave. Should go back to his room, go back to sleep, forget his dream, forget what he wanted. What did he want, anyway? Company? Comfort?

The slightly bitter taste of Tsuzuki's mouth. 

The irritating crick in his back from the awkward angle he'd had to bend.

The amazement in the purple eyes. 

The fear and desperation, so mixed up as to have no origin. 

A kiss.

Hisoka held his breath, closed his eyes and knocked.


	2. Tsuzuki

As requested, Tsuzuki's point of view. A little less fluffy. As it stands, I'm not planning to add to this unless _many_ people beg. So reviews are a must. 

Warning: "A little less fluffy" was an understatement. 

_************************************************************************_

_Idiot._

The word pounded against Tsuzuki's skull.

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

Ad infinitum. 

He was an idiot. If one chose to look up the word idiot in the dictionary, his name would be there. No. Not possible. Very few people in the world of the living knew him, so his name could hardly be a common reference. He was just being even more of an idiot. Now if Meifu had it's own dictionary….

_Idiot._

Why did it have to be that word? Well, it was a perfect description of him; it would be the only word Hisoka could choose. 

Hisoka.

Tsuzuki sighed. He shouldn't have done it. He never should have. It was cruel. It was selfish. It was wonderful.

Great. Now he was not merely an idiot but a pervert as well. A bastard. A sadist. 

Muraki.

No. He was not like Muraki. He hadn't intended any harm. He'd just sat there, staring into startled green eyes as Hisoka'd kissed him. It was an ideal moment, rare in his long life. He'd been kissed before, by other people and in other places, but never had a kiss meant so much. It was hope and trust and love, all dangerous emotions Hisoka had done backsprings trying to avoid. It was an indication that Hisoka still wanted him around. Or at least he had. 

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._

He should have known better. He should have seen it coming and stopped it. But he didn't see it coming. He was, after all, an idiot. 

His sake didn't burn the back of his throat. As a general rule, that was his signal that he'd had enough for a lunch break.

Wait…lunch. There was something about lunch he should remember. He hadn't eaten. Not too big a surprise. There would be little point to drinking if he had just eaten. He wasn't supposed to meet Hisoka. His partner was doing paper work and ...oh shit. He had been sent to bring back food. Couldn't he do anything right?

Obviously not. 

He teleported carelessly, hoping to make up time. The fastest Chinese take-away ever acquired. Opening the door to their office, he noticed Hisoka staring up at the ceiling. He left the food on his desk and looked up. Just the ceiling. No bugs, no cracks, no shadows. Nothing to watch so intently.

"Ne, Hisoka, you okay?" Hisoka flinched, but noticed him. For the briefest of instants, Tsuzuki was relieved. Hisoka would claim to be fine, call him an idiot, and move on with the day. Hisoka's nose twitched and he glared.

"I'm fine." No insult. No calling him an idiot for asking an obvious question. No yelling at him for being late and thus technically taking two lunch breaks. Not even a scathing comment about the sake he _knew_ Hisoka'd smelled on his breath. Hisoka was not fine. Tsuzuki smiled and made his usual pretense of going back to work.

Hisoka was not fine and it was his fault. 

Tsuzuki woke sore. His head hurt, his muscles ached, and his throat burned. Carefully he raised himself off the floor. Never again. He would not 'just rest a little' on the floor because the bed was so far away. He'd make it at least as far as a soft surface, no matter how drunk he was. Really. The room started spinning as he tried to stand up. A wave of nausea pulled him back to the ground and he vomited on the floor. Hardwood floors were wonderful things. Easy to clean up. He watched the semi-liquid mess spread slowly. He didn't feel like cleaning. He felt like getting drunk again, but what would be the point? He'd still have to wake up in the morning and go to work. A hangover would not help him face Hisoka. 

As though he'd ever be able to face Hisoka again after that afternoon. 

It had almost been like working without a partner again. Hisoka hadn't been there. 

He could hardly blame Hisoka, though. Hisoka probably had a lot to think about. Like how to get Tatsumi to give him a new partner. The nicest way to tell Tsuzuki he didn't want to work with him anymore. Hisoka was always so nice; he never wanted to hurt anyone's feelings, even those of a certain idiot.  Maybe he should bring up the idea of changing partners first. Save Hisoka the difficulty. 

Tears fell, adding another bodily fluid to the puddle beneath him. 

It hurt so much. It always did, even knowing it was inevitable. He'd hoped, though. He should have known better than to hope, to love. To desire. He didn't want to lose Hisoka, not to something so stupid. Maybe Hisoka could forgive him, if he apologized. That's what he'd do, first thing in the morning. He'd come in on time, bringing food. A bagel, Hisoka didn't like donuts. He'd offer the food and beg forgiveness. Swear he hadn't meant any harm; swear he'd not wanted anything. Not the kiss, not anything else.

Lie through his teeth. 

Not that he wasn't used to it. Just one more lie to add to the multitude. It would be worth it; only one lie and Hisoka would stay with him. Maybe. Tsuzuki sighed. He would do it. He'd do anything to keep the possibility of Hisoka staying with him real. He was worse than Muraki. 

He couldn't think that way. If he were like that he'd have to die and he'd promised Hisoka he wouldn't. He'd broken enough promises; he didn't want to break another. Especially one to Hisoka. Hisoka deserved so much more than that. So much more than him. Shakily, Tsuzuki stood. Vomit and tears weren't enough. He may not have a straight razor anymore, but there were knives in his kitchen.

There was only a little pain when the knife broke the skin. Barely any blood dripped out before the cut healed itself. He stabbed instead of slicing and left the blade in the wound, letting the skin close around it. Pulling it out hurt more. Bled more as well. Blood now fell into the strange pool starting to dry on his floor. It would be hard to clean up, but Tsuzuki just didn't care. He couldn't be expected to do anything right. He was an idiot. He looked down at the perfect skin on his arms. Not a mark visible. Only one scar had ever took….

Someone was knocking at his door. Tsuzuki dropped the knife in surprise. It couldn't be morning yet. He checked his watch, 3:14. If he were considered late to work at that hour, Tatsumi would have to pass on that instant. No sane person would even be up at that hour. 

"Who is it?" Tsuzuki rushed to return the knife to the kitchen. Whoever was at the door did not need to see that. Tsuzuki rushed back to the door and tugged it open. 

Hisoka's perfect green eyes stared up at him. 


	3. and, last

Finally got around to finishing it. And it is done, now. Complete. There will not be anymore. 

_____________________________________________________________

Hisoka had never been so grateful for shields in his afterlife. The simultaneous feelings of horror and relief Tsuzuki experienced at seeing his partner standing in his door were almost enough to send Hisoka screaming into the night. Tsuzuki was always quick with his shields, though. Just before the flood was stemmed, Hisoka felt a wave of concern. Tsuzuki's for him and his for Tsuzuki. 

"What s'matter, Hisoka?" The slurred words dripped worry. Hisoka shuddered. How could Tsuzuki stand there reeking of sake and blood and ask if _he_ was all right?

"You've got blood on your hands." It wasn't quite what Hisoka had meant to say. Confusion tripped across his mind as Tsuzuki looked down at the stains left on his sleeves, at the brownish crust drying on his skin.

"You can see it? Does everyone? No one's ever said anything, so I thought they couldn't. When… I'm sorry." Tsuzuki murmured half to himself and fell back into his apartment, attempting to close the door between them. Hisoka pushed against it and stepped inside.

"Idiot." His voice did _not_ break as he said it. Really. 

The room felt heavy with misery. Worse then normal. Hisoka half dragged Tsuzuki into the kitchen. The kitchen was the lightest part of Tsuzuki's apartment. His troubles just didn't seem to exist in there. Of course, that was where he kept the sweets, so they might not have. Hisoka pulled Tsuzuki over to the sink. The trench coat had been left in the hall, so Hisoka started unbuttoning his partner's shirt.

"What…Hisoka…?" Tsuzuki didn't struggle; he stared in shock. Hisoka pulled the sleeves down, let the stained shirt fall to the floor. He held Tsuzuki's hands over the sink. Water ran down their arms, soaking the cuffs of Hisoka's sweater. Blood slowly circled around the drain, eventually spiraling into the void. 

"I'm washing your hands." Hisoka twisted his fingers around Tsuzuki's, rubbing off the blood. There wasn't very much. Hisoka didn't stop, gently massaging Tsuzuki's fingers, hands, wrists, long after the blood washed down the sink. Suddenly noticing that the stains were clean, Hisoka dropped the hands and shut the faucet. He turned to face his partner, trapped between the wet rim of the sink and Tsuzuki's bare skin. Silently Hisoka thanked every deity he remembered by name that he had never gone to the baths with Tsuzuki. The man standing so close to him took away his breath without even noticing. 

Tsuzuki smiled softly at his partner. As though such a simple rinse would remove the stains so many years of harsh scouring left. Hisoka was trembling. Fear? No, horror. Hisoka was terrified of him. 

"Thank you." An easy lie. Hisoka blushed at Tsuzuki's words and turned his attention to some small spot on the floor. The boy couldn't even look at him. And yet, he'd come, in the middle of the night. Something important must have happened. "What's wrong, Hisoka?" 

Green eyes rose off the floor. Hisoka fixed his eyes on Tsuzuki's face, forcibly ignoring everything that wasn't bright purple. Tsuzuki's lack of shirt did not matter. Not in the least.

"Mess…this place…clean…." So his words weren't coming out quite right. It was three in the morning. 

"Huh?" 

"Tea." Hisoka's eyes flicked back to the floor. "I'm going to make tea. You…you clean the floor out there. And put on a shirt."

His last sentence was addressed to an empty kitchen. Tsuzuki, unnaturally diligent, had begun Hisoka's task as soon as it was assigned. Hisoka picked up the teapot and brought it over to the sink to fill it with water. He removed the lid and took a cursory glance inside, checking for old tealeaves. He found a knife.

_Damnit, Tsuzuki_….

The blood came off on his damp hands. It had stained the teapot as well. It probably should have been washed in any case. The knife, too. Lightly, Hisoka ran a finger across the edge. A very shallow cut; it healed almost immediately. It didn't hurt; it barely bled. Was this what Tsuzuki had done? He washed the knife, careful not to cut himself again. He put it in the dish rack and continued the tea-making process. His eyes kept returning to the clean knife. It was the only thing in the dish rack. What in all hells did Tsuzuki want to do that for? Quickly, Hisoka dried the knife and tossed it in the nearest drawer. Another item for their long list of "never happened."

**************

The floor really needed to be mopped. Cleaning was never something Tsuzuki enjoyed. It was all mechanical work, leaving the mind free to think. What had happened to make Hisoka come over at three in the morning? Dreams, probably, or rather nightmares. He knew Hisoka still had them. Not that he ever discussed them, but they did share hotel rooms on missions, and there are only so many reasons he would cry out in his sleep. 

Hisoka had never come to him after such things before.

Tsuzuki couldn't help but feel pleased Hisoka had that night. It was instantly smothered with guilt. Only a monster could feel happiness at someone else's obvious distress. He looked down into the muck drying at his feet. It wasn't going anywhere. He could at least do what Hisoka had asked. 

He hated cleaning. Maybe it would have been better if he had carpet. He'd never cleaned vomit off a rug before. Then his mind could focus on how to do it. He'd had too much practice with hardwood floors. He would think too much. And he was still just standing there.

_Get to work, Idiot._

Slowly his features twisted into a sad smile. 

**************

Hisoka looked up over the rim of his teacup. Tsuzuki was staring fixedly at the warm liquid. They had been doing just that for nearly eternity. One of them would watch the other stare at tea. Then they would switch. It could, probably, continue for the rest of eternity. Work could be an issue, but they'd spent parts of cases before without being able to look each other in the eye. This was merely a slight extension.

He didn't want to sit there all night. Hisoka drained his teacup, rose, and placed the empty cup next to the sink.  

"Hisoka-?" Tsuzuki's voice echoed surprise. Hisoka quickly turned around. Tsuzuki had been watching him, but the man jerked his attention back to the tea as soon as their eyes met. "Are…are you leaving, then?"

"I…yes." Hisoka lowered his eyes to the ground, hoping his action would prompt Tsuzuki to look at him again. "We have work tomorrow."

"Work? Right, work." Tsuzuki chuckled. Still avoiding his partner's gazed, he walked Hisoka to the door. "I forgot about it."

"Idiot." Hisoka stopped in the doorway, hesitating after he put on his shoes. He'd come here for a reason.

"Hiso- " 

Hisoka threw himself forward into Tsuzuki's arms. He tilted his head back and their lips met gently. Tsuzuki tried to shield his feelings, but he couldn't crush them all, nor prevent his physical reaction. Hisoka's tongue slipped between Tsuzuki's parted lips, tasted the sake, the tea, the emotions. Surprise, pain guilt. Hisoka pulled back. The violet eyes seemed so hurt.

"I'm sorry." Tsuzuki's words stabbed into Hisoka's soul. Of course Tsuzuki would be sorry. It had been a foolish thought, that Tsuzuki might care for him in that way. Childish. All he could do was make Tsuzuki feel bad. Apologize for not being able to love him. 

"Me too." He didn't want to loose Tsuzuki. He'd just have to forget everything. Forget the dream. Forget the desire.

Forget the kiss.


End file.
